


Regent's Park Rendezvous

by Kurohitenshi



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Background Character Death, Background Het, Fluff, London, M/M, Modern Era, Music, Pining, Secret Intelligence Service | MI6, Secrets, Self-Harm, Sexual Tension, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:32:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1723238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurohitenshi/pseuds/Kurohitenshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur was an MI6 man, a real-life James Bond. Merlin is a young music prodigy. Everyday, they meet each other in the middle of London, in a place called Regent's Park.</p><p>“Some things are destined to be -- it just takes us a couple of tries to get there.” <br/>-J.R. Ward, Lover Mine</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Boy in the Red Pavilion

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters are the property of BBC. This is merely a work of fiction.  
> Inspired by the beautiful short anime movie, "The Garden of Words".
> 
> “I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,  
> in secret, between the shadows and the soul.”  
> -Pablo Neruda

  
**Regent's Park Rendezvous**  
 _A Modern Merlin Adventure_

By Kurohitenshi

Arthur could say that he was a successful man at the age of twenty-seven. He was an MI6 agent, the best of his graduating class, a real-life James Bond with a shiny red Aston Martin, and a luxury flat at Primrose Hill next to Regent's Park in downtown London. He also had George, his meticulous but boring housekeeper, who came in during the day to clean his flat, do his laundry, and make hot breakfast and supper before Arthur woke up or got home. He had exciting field jobs all over the world a few times a year although lately, he’d started being indoctrinated into a leadership position at headquarters, making his lifestyle quite predictable – a 6:30 am to 4:30 pm work schedule. He usually went on a month-long holiday once a year, sunning himself on warm, white-sand beaches that were full of nude or at least skimpy-clad women who had eager supple bodies.

Naturally, his love life was in tattered ruins. His only long-term relationship ended right before MI6 snagged him from Oxford when he was only nineteen and, at the age of twenty-two, he’d already had a doomed marriage that ended after only three months. Arthur had quite enough of serious relationships afterwards. He instead chose to dabble in one-night stands or dates that focused only on having fun. His sister was always harping on him about his devil-may-care lifestyle, calling it decadent as she tried to set him up with girls she thought would suit him well, but Arthur wouldn’t budge.

And yet, despite the fame, glory, and riches he had, there seemed to always be an unattainable thing that Arthur seemed to be missing, something that work, wealth, and women could never provide him. Some days, he thought that perhaps it was some karma from an old life, as if there was someone or something that he needed to find so that he could finally know contentment.

**********

Day in and day out, stuck now in a high position in MI6, Arthur’s best hour was when he clocked out at 4:30 pm and walked out of the impressive headquarters building. He walked for five minutes to the nearest Underground station, dressed to the nines in a long black pea coat, a dark power suit that showed off his broad muscled frame, as well as his ever-present trademark red silk tie that was the only hint of his Pendragon lineage. Underneath his coat, he had two semi-automatic pistols in a shoulder holster, and beneath his right trouser leg, was a sharp spring-loaded knife that he was trained to throw perfectly on target. Perhaps the most spectacular thing about him was that he tended to carry around a black umbrella too since he preferred riding the Tube and thus walked a lot. Also, he much rather favoured using his time during the public transportation to decompress after a long workday rather than to try to battle out the heavy afternoon traffic with his beloved Aston Martin.

Presently, after he finally stepped inside the Tube train car, he was greeted by a sizable crowd with an assortment of all sorts of races, genders, and ages although most were office workers and students whose day had just ended. Arthur chose to stand close to the door, keeping to himself as he observed everyone and everything: the one fussy baby in the middle of the seats with the haggard-looking mother, the loud but small group of hooligans in their tracksuits who were standing too close to the mother and child, the girl and boy who were flirtatiously eyeing each other with interest not too far from him, and the old Italian priest at the other side of the car who looked more like a mobster than a man of the cloth. For the duration of his short trip, Arthur kept his attention on the priest although he regretfully abandoned the not-quite surveillance of the suspicious-looking man as his stop came up.

Arthur let the crowd lead him up towards the direction of daylight, pleased when he finally smelled the faint scent of trees of Regent's Park as he emerged from underground. He walked the familiar path from the station to the park, crossing a street full of black cabs and red double decker buses. He moved about with even, measured steps tapping rhythmically against the pavement before a sudden droplet of cold water fell from the sky and landed on the back of his tanned hand. He paused only briefly to look up at the dark grey sky before he saw a sudden flash of lightning many miles away followed by a light rumbling of thunder. He opened his black umbrella and continued on his journey, smelling rain and earth mingling together, making him reminisce unexpectedly about a childhood spent growing up in Welsh forests, close to his parents’ manor.

Regent's Park, during April, was beautiful as flowers of all kinds bloomed in an organised, logical way, like pretty girl soldiers assembling to be inspected by the Queen. Arthur passed them by, recognizing the favourites of all the women of his life – Roses for his mother, Lilies for Morgana, Stargazers for Gwen, and Violets for his ex-wife Sophia. It smelled sweeter as he went deeper into the park, the scents from the garden overpowering the smell of rain.

Arthur walked down the familiar, mostly-empty path that snaked around the boating lake, recognizing each crack upon the footpath, and even each tree branch that hung too low, grazing the top of his umbrella. This was his afternoon routine, this walk through a park lush with trees, water, and flowers. It was like a poem in itself, or a sonata, the way it cut through the city’s landscape – a secret garden hideaway amidst a concrete jungle.

He was halfway through the park and could see the outline of Primrose Hill buildings against the dreary afternoon sky when he suddenly noticed something out of the ordinary.

There was a red open pavilion up ahead, at the edge of the lake, built in a Japanese architectural way. Surrounding it were cherry trees that were in full bloom, pale-pink blossoms falling like snow on the green waters of the lake. He had never seen this pavilion before so it was most likely new, but even from about a hundred paces away, it looked quite ancient, as if it had always been there. There could be a simple explanation, of course – perhaps London had friends from Japan who had donated this historical pavilion not too long ago. London was known for having bits from all over the world after all, such as the ancient stone gate along the Thames River, gifted from the Egyptians more than a hundred years ago.

Arthur was about to shrug it off and continue on his way, to give the pavilion no more than a curious glance, before he heard something hauntingly beautiful that mingled with the sweet tinkling sound of raindrops splashing lightly against the surface of the lake. It was the sound of music.

Although he still walked in measured steps, Arthur couldn’t help but crane his neck slightly as he tried to listen closer. The music was low and it was obviously strings but only when he was a few steps away did Arthur pause to observe even closer without actually going inside the pavilion.

There was a young student inside who had a large cello between his long slender legs, a concentrated look upon his soft young features as his long fringe fell upon beautifully-defined cheekbones and black-rimmed glasses while he played a song. He was wearing the familiar uniform of a red-striped tie with his crisp white shirt and a grey wool blazer with red piping on its lapel, a small patch of a dragon crest upon the left breast pocket. He was definitely a junior student of the Royal Academy of Music, which was not too far from Arthur’s Tube stop next to the entrance of the park.

The young boy looked familiar and Arthur felt an odd tenseness, as he couldn’t place him in his memories. Perhaps he’d just passed him by before – there had to be a simple reason for the uneasy feeling that he now felt at seeing him.

It was the song Claire de Lune that the boy was playing with rare surprising talent upon his cello, Arthur finally noticed, as he took a moment to stand there under his umbrella as he listened. It was quite lovely, the classical melody mingling with both the sound of soft rain and chirping birds that were not too far away.

Spring was the season of rebirth and new things. And there he was today, unexpectedly witnessing a welcome sight in his usually predictable routine. Arthur felt his lips drawing up in a small smile as the string concerto of the old classic song finally ended before he walked forward once more, continuing his journey back to his flat at Primrose Hill.

**********

The next day, after a brutal teleconference with contacts who were in Hong Kong to investigate a triad involved in drug trade that reached British shores, Arthur was grateful for the long walk home along Regent's Park, not even caring that it was once again raining.

Again, he followed the familiar winding path, eyeing each student that wore the same uniform that the boy from yesterday wore. But each one he saw was usually in a group of two or more, none of them carrying a gigantic cello case. Most of them were chatting loudly about crushes, television shows, movies, and an upcoming party. None had the prominent cheekbones and long curls that fell across black-rimmed glasses. Arthur almost felt disappointed as he neared the red pavilion, hearing no sound coming from inside.

But when he was only a few steps away, Arthur paused. Inside, the boy from yesterday sat quietly with his knees crossed primly together as he studiously read a book. Arthur could barely make out the title – “The Secret Garden” by Frances Hodgson Burnett. And for a moment, as he stood there underneath his umbrella as the rain continued to fall, he forgot everything else as he concentrated only on the play of emotions on the warm, open face: surprised, happy, and sometimes sad.

It was quite odd – it was as if Arthur had seen all those expressions on that familiar face a thousand times before. It was quite maddening that he could not pinpoint the source of his discomfiture.

He possibly stood there for too long, staring at the young boy who read quietly with his cello case leaning next to his long slender legs. Arthur gripped his umbrella tightly in a fist, noting that the rain fell a little bit harder today, splashing against his expensive leather shoes with a soothing sound, like it was its own kind of instrument. 

And then, all of a sudden, as if he finally felt the weight of the stare upon his face, the boy looked up and glanced sideward to look Arthur in the eye. Caught, Arthur tried to look away and walk forward once more but the boy stopped him in his tracks with a warm smile upon his lovely plush lips.

There was an unmistakable tug in Arthur’s heart at seeing that smile directed at him and his heart beat like thunder inside his chest. It was quite disconcerting.

And yet, Arthur felt himself smiling back as well, as if the boy across from him who sat in the red pavilion was someone he knew dearly a long, long time ago. He nodded briefly to the boy before forcing himself to walk past both him and the pavilion, eyes trying to focus instead on the outline of buildings on Primrose Hill that stood starkly against the dark rainclouds in the afternoon sky.

Maybe they knew each other a lifetime ago but whatever it was, it was the first time that Arthur felt as if everything was finally slotting into place, as if he’d found the last missing piece of a puzzle he didn’t even know he was trying to solve. With one mere smile from a boy who was possibly just in his early teens...

It really was quite absurd.

**********

For the next fortnight, Arthur walked his normal route home, cutting through Regent's Park and covertly observing the boy from behind a curtain of cherry blossoms. Usually, the boy was playing his cello – sometimes one of the old classics from Bach, Tchaikovsky, or Beethoven but sometimes also a clever remake of songs that had become popular just recently. But sometimes, he was reading a book, which was never the same so it most likely meant that he was a quick reader. Twice, Arthur found him writing in a leather-bound notebook, and it made him wonder if it was homework or a journal. But always, every day, the boy looked up as he walked by, giving him one of his sweet shy smiles that made Arthur’s chest constrict in some unknown emotion.

The weather was mostly the same, usually with rain but sometimes just a light drizzle. Arthur never saw the boy anywhere else, as if the pavilion belonged only to him. Arthur also never saw anyone else in the pavilion, which led him to almost believe his own theory.

It was a month later, when the rain had been replaced by a warm afternoon sun, that Arthur peered into the pavilion, found it empty, and felt his heart clench with a sudden inexplicable tightness. That day, he finally stepped inside the red wooden structure, to stand in front of the bench that the boy always occupied with his school things. He stared at the still surface of the green waters behind the pavilion, noting the laughter from couples and families as they maneuvered hired boats clumsily around the small lake. It looked like a completely different place without the studious dark-haired boy. Finally, Arthur noticed the flowers that had started to grow very recently all around the pavilion: irises.

Strangely, with a pang in his heart, Arthur looked at those flowers with profound longing. It too looked different in the sunny surroundings. Irises looked most beautiful in the rain.

**********

It took another week before Arthur found his familiar black-haired boy once more. The boy had his legs crossed as he scribbled something in his notebook and his head was bowed so deeply as if he was trying to hide his eyes. Arthur stopped in his tracks, studying the familiar dark head and the uncommon slump of shoulders before finally noticing the dark bruise under the black-rimmed glasses.

The mere sight alone of that tiny injury caused something to lurch from his belly into his throat, a rage that he usually kept bottled up for his worst enemies in the field. Arthur couldn’t stop himself if he tried from pausing in front of the pavilion so as to look directly at the now-familiar boy that was as much a part of Regent's Park as Arthur’s afternoon journeys home.

“Hello,” Arthur said in an even tone, standing at the threshold and debating whether he should come in or not. Rain again fell around his black umbrella but it was harshest today, moving sideways as well because of strong winds. Thunder kept booming loudly in the background while lightning bolts brightened the dark afternoon sky once in awhile. “Do you mind if I stop for awhile? The rain is getting my coat wet.”

The boy finally forced himself to look up, his cheeks red with embarrassment. “Not at all.”

Arthur folded his umbrella, shaking the droplets off, before coming in and pausing before the boy.

Upon closer inspection, beneath the black-rimmed glasses and the faint purple bruise, the boy’s eyes looked like a bright blue, the greyness of their surroundings enhancing the colour even further, the way that rain did for the iris flower. Arthur observed him for perhaps a moment longer than he should before sitting on an adjacent seat.

“I see you here everyday,” Arthur said conversationally, increasing the volume of his voice because of the loud pounding of rain all around them. “You go to the Royal Academy of Music, right? You play the cello really well.”

“Thank you,” the boy said with a small friendly smile. “I see you everyday too, walking by.”

“So what happened to your eye?” Arthur said, unable to let the matter drop for it was for that very reason why he broke through his routine and came inside the pavilion today. It seemed quite important that he know.

“It’s nothing,” the boy said, lowering his gaze again as he looked at the red wooden floor beneath his shiny leather brogue shoes. “Nothing serious.”

“Bullies in school?” Arthur guessed.

There was a small shrug before the boy looked up again. Yet he didn’t say anything. His silence was answer enough.

“When I was your age,” Arthur said, speaking lightly so as to try to set the boy at ease. “I was quite foolish. I was the bully who liked to pick on those weaker than me. I knew it was wrong but it was my way of letting my own insecurities out. I’m not saying that you should forgive whoever wronged you but I suppose I’m just letting you see the other side. As a grown man, I regret the actions I made as a boy. I was a coward.”

The boy bit his bottom lip in thought for a beat before shrugging nonchalantly, as if it didn’t matter. His eyes were clear, yet curious as he looked up into Arthur’s own. “And are you still a coward today?”

“I certainly hope not,” Arthur said.

The force of the rain started to decrease and Arthur looked sideward to watch raindrops splashing against the green water of the lake, making round ripples upon its surface. The sound was like music, soothing and relaxing. He listened too to the sound of frogs croaking and of water rushing from canals around the park towards the small lake.

“I love rain,” the boy said, a small smile upon his lips as he turned his attention over towards the lake too.

They both observed quietly for a moment. Much of the tiny pale-pink petals from the cherry blossoms had already fallen and it littered the lake’s green surface in an almost beautiful way. Arthur looked from the lake to the young face that had lit up from that one small smile. He felt heartened, as if he had always known that small private smile. “I love the rain too.”

Their eyes met once more and Arthur felt a pull from those familiar blue eyes.

“What’s your name?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“My name is Merlin,” the boy said, his smile turning a bit shy that it was quite adorable.

Arthur smiled back, wanting nothing more than to fold the slight form into his arms so that no one could lay a finger on him again. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “My name is Arthur.”

That afternoon, time seemed to stand still in the pavilion that seemed to be hidden from the rest of London, as the two of them had a long conversation about nearly everything. Arthur learned that Merlin spent his earliest years in Wales as well before moving to London because of his aspirations and fondness for music. He learned that while he loved non-fiction, Merlin instead loved fiction, from the classics to the most modern. He also learned that Merlin could play four instruments – cello, violin, piano, and guitar – and had an online page that featured him and his friends doing remakes of their favourite songs using instruments and sometimes vocals as well. Reluctantly, after much teasing, Merlin gave Arthur the site address.

On the subject of life outside their common interests – such as work for Arthur and family life for Merlin – they were both silent. But they didn’t pry into each other’s lives, didn’t force anything that wasn’t freely given.

Around them, the rain had become nothing more than a light drizzle. Branches swayed lightly in a soft breeze while droplets of water fell slowly from leaves.

Arthur forced himself to get up when he noticed the lateness of the hour, ready to retreat for the night.

“You seem to love being in this place,” Arthur said, holding himself back from following up with ‘do you never go home?’ as he looked down curiously at the boy.

But Merlin just shrugged slim shoulders as he looked up at Arthur with warmth. “I love this place. I’m always here when it’s raining.”

“This place is beautiful,” Arthur admitted with a smile. “Especially when it rains.”

“See you tomorrow?” Merlin said, friendliness evident on his face.

“See you tomorrow then,” Arthur said with a nod.

**********

**_To be continued..._**


	2. Feels Like A Thousand Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur discovers that Merlin is a music prodigy and along with his friends Freya and Will, their group was adored by the thousands online. Arthur almost feels a slow obsession building as he couldn't help but be affected by his new friend. It probably says a lot that his favourite part of the day is when he could leave his MI6 job in the afternoon so as to make his way back to Regent's Park, as if it was his home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All characters are the property of BBC. This is merely a work of fiction.  
> Inspired by the beautiful short anime movie, "The Garden of Words".
> 
> “I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,  
> in secret, between the shadows and the soul.”  
> -Pablo Neruda

That night, after a warm dinner of roast lamb with potatoes and fig in a plum sauce, carrot vinaigrette salad, fresh baguette with a sliver of soft goat cheese, a dessert of strawberry trifle, and a glass of premium white wine, Arthur thanked George as the man cleared the table and went to wash the dishes and cutlery. He took his usual cup of Earl Grey tea with milk from his housekeeper before going into his office.

Dressed now only in his trousers and his dress shirt, which he’d opened at the collar, he sat at his designer leather office chair before typing in the password on his computer. He checked on work e-mail first, making sure that he hadn’t missed anything important, before switching to his personal computer and loading a secure browser.

Arthur looked at his phone only once to get the URL, but soon, the Youtube page was loading, showing the photo of three young students in their school uniform – Merlin with a shy smile as he looked into the camera, with a beautiful girl with long black hair and doe eyes to his right, and a mischievous-looking brunette boy with a big grin on his left. They were a trio of musicians who called themselves “Lost Souls”, and had posted five videos all in all.

He loaded the first video and paused it so as to let it stream. As he waited, he heard George call out a “Good night, sir!” from the living room before the front door closed. Arthur tapped on his smartphone a couple of times, arming his flat with his security system from intruders for the night before he sipped on his tea, savoring the warm-hot creaminess before finally hitting the play button.

In the first video, the song that they were playing was a remake of a modern song, done in an original and unique way, very similar to how local artists did noon gigs in a BBC radio show. Arthur didn’t recognise the song immediately but when he did, a pleased feeling settled upon his chest. The girl who seemed to be named Freya was on violin, the boy named Will was on keyboards, while Merlin was on cello. Together, they were in perfect beautiful harmony as they played an instrumental version of Coldplay’s “Fix You”.

The video, which was shot by a popular videographer named Gwaine, was done well: the group playing their instruments on a rooftop; walking, talking, and laughing together like regular friends along the Thames River; and a dramatization of two other unknown young girls who were in conflict because one was going deeper into depression. Arthur couldn’t resist himself from replaying the bits when Merlin was on screen, noting the normal street clothes that had replaced his regular school uniform. In the rooftop sequence, Merlin was quite proper in dark grey trousers and a soft blue knitted jumper over a white collared shirt while his friends were in similar clothing, Freya in a pastel blue polka dot dress with a white Peter Pan collar, and Will in a light blue shirt which had sleeves folded up to his elbow. Along the river sequence as they ambled about London streets, they dressed more informally, with Merlin in skinny jeans and a slim t-shirt that had a fluffy Japanese animation cat character that Arthur couldn’t recognise while his friends wore similar clothes. After the video was over, Arthur clicked on the ‘thumbs up’ icon and resisted the urge to comment.

The next video was more whimsical, bringing out their youngness as they played “Leaving Hogwarts”, a nostalgic but hopeful instrumental song that had played at the end of one of the infamous Harry Potter movies as the trio of Harry, Hermione, and Ron were about to go home from their magical school of Hogwarts for the summer. Similarly, in their video as Freya played the flute, Will the keyboard, and Merlin the cello, they took the roles of the infamous trio with Merlin being Harry Potter as he had his black-framed glasses on while he walked about London with a forlorn look upon his face, Freya being Hermione Granger as she walked about with books in and around museums, and Will as Ron Weasley as he enjoyed his boyhood in a forest, running and playing with older boys who looked like they could be his brothers. It also featured a lot of owls, cats, and quirky places around London that had also been featured in the movies, and the video ended on a high as the three friends found each other again in King’s Cross Station, bright smiles upon their faces as they embraced after a long summer apart. The video was quite well thought out and the playing of the instrument was superbly done as well. It was possibly their most famous video, reaching well over 400K even though it was only filmed and published a year ago. Of course, Arthur gave that one a ‘thumbs up’ as well, wishing he could give more than one.

The third video was quite a shock because as Arthur saw Freya doing violin once more and Will doing keyboards, he found Merlin without his cello for the first time. Merlin was instead in front of a microphone, singing “Turning Tables”, a bloody Adele song, in such a heartfelt way as if he understood completely what agony was despite his age. It was as if he was baring his soul and Arthur could see it clearly in his blue eyes that the camera had intimately focused on through his glasses. There was certainly pain there, of an unknown kind, as if Merlin too was incomplete, the same way that Arthur had been all these years. Arthur felt obsessed with the video, wanting to replay it even before it ended. It wasn’t even as fun of a video as the Harry Potter one for it was quite simple, just three kids doing a gig in a pub, a single spotlight upon them from the ceiling. It was shot in black and white, and there seemed to be a focus on being intimate, with close ups on their faces, their eyes, and the way they played their instruments or sang the song. It was quite beautiful.

The fourth video was quite a surprise as well because it was a collaboration between the three friends and a longhaired and bearded handsome man called Gwaine who played the guitar. It was quite a simple video as the camera remained stationary. It looked like it was in a studio and they all seemed relaxed, as if they were merely just having fun with music practice. Merlin and his two friends were, for once, without their instruments as the man began strumming his acoustic guitar. It was a cross between “Somewhere over the Rainbow” and “Wonderful World”, done in the style of the infamous Hawaiian singer Israel Kamakawiwo'ole. Merlin, Freya, and Will sang the familiar song together, harmonizing their voices as easily as they did their instruments. It was such an honest performance about the longing for dreams and Arthur felt quite moved and oddly almost envious as the man Gwaine kept grinning encouragingly at the three youths, his eyes focusing on Merlin most of all. Merlin’s voice was possibly the strongest in his group and he did the riffs and other tricky notes easily and with his own personal style. It was glorious.

The fifth video was quite an upbeat song, a remake of the infamous Avicii song called “Wake Me Up”. The three friends were back in their element, playing their instruments although this time, Freya was on keyboards, Merlin was on guitar, and Will was on drums. The three of them looked like they were having fun, dressed in street clothes in what looked like an outdoor gig with fellow students somewhere in Regent's Park. It was like a regular summer music festival although they were all kids. Everyone looked quite excited though, jumping about in the crowd and singing the song loudly like an anthem as the group of Merlin and his friends played their instruments happily, like a regular band as they laughed about on stage, enjoying every moment of it.

After viewing all five videos, Arthur almost felt quite breathless, astounded at the young talent he had just seen. Never in his life had Arthur been a musical person, not following bands but only listening to whatever he heard on the radio whenever he had time. His whole life had been focused on getting into MI6 and when he succeeded as an international spy, the few hobbies he had outside of work were quite predictable and mundane such as watching the latest action movies, having drinks with his mates at a pub, going to the gym at headquarters at five in the morning, going to the gun range, practicing various martial arts and fencing, riding horses, tinkering with his sports car, collecting guns and knives, watching porn, lying about on beaches to get a good tan, gambling in high-stakes poker in notorious casinos worldwide, and spending a pleasant evening with beautiful young ladies of all kinds.

Seeing Merlin, who only had shy smiles for Arthur, performing with his friends with so much heart and soul in their young bodies – Arthur learned for the first time that his life, despite the highs and lows of his MI6 job, was devoid of passion of this caliber as it searched forevermore for that one thing that would make everything fall into place. Arthur couldn’t help but replay the videos again and again that night, fingers trailing longingly on screen at the familiar black-haired boy as he uncomfortably thought about the thousands of strangers from all over the world that watched his boy. He couldn’t help but know within his heart of hearts that that empty spot that used to be a black hole in his chest was slowly filling up, like a flesh wound that was finally healing.

As if Merlin was the person that Arthur had been waiting for all his life.

**********

Spring continued on, April becoming May and Arthur’s routine continued.

As always, he woke up at 4 am, getting ready for the day as he relieved himself in the toilet, went on to eat his breakfast, brushed his teeth before changing into his utilitarian black gym clothes. And then at the door, George would be ready with his gym bag, his suit bag, and his umbrella and Arthur would thank him before walking outside to be greeted by dawn.

George usually drove him to work in his other car, the less flashy but still sleek and beautiful BMW sportscar. They’d usually make it to work in time so that Arthur could start his gym time at 5:00 am, or train in martial arts with his co-workers. After an hour, Arthur would take a quick shower, dress himself in his designer suit in front of a mirror, before meeting George at his office so that he could hand his gym bag to him. George would then go about his day, dropping and picking up dry-cleaning, grocery shopping, then going back to the flat to wash his clothes, tidy up, shine his shoes, detail his car, before getting ready to cook supper.

Work was of course hectic after he came in at 6:30. His assistant Vivian was annoying in her desire to get into his trousers, meetings ran almost all morning with operatives from all over Europe, Asia and Africa, and he usually had to give briefings and debriefings with agents who were in and out of the office as they started and ended all sorts of missions. It was rather like a juggling act, one that never stopped. So every chance that he got, when no one was there to disturb him, he sipped on his coffee as he opened a browser on his computer, playing Lost Souls’ playlist on Youtube while he hoped for rain in the afternoon. Whenever he saw Merlin giving his heart and soul to his musical performance, whether he played his instruments or sang beautifully into a microphone, Arthur took a deep breath as something in him settled, as if the performances were only for him.

When Lunch rolled around, he usually either went to a pub with his co-worker mates, Lance, Percival, and Elyan or met up with his sister Morgana in a high-class fancy restaurant.

But afterwards, it was almost like he was a schoolboy once again, fidgety in his office chair as he looked up at the ticking clock, impatiently waiting for it to turn 4:30 as he rushed to finish his paperwork, tasks, and mission plans so that he wouldn’t have to do overtime. Time seemed unbearably slow and after what felt like years, he got up as the clock hit 4:30, putting on his coat and picking up his umbrella. He made sure to inform the night shift replacement about any turnover information before he bee-lined to the exit, his pace no longer sure and steady but rather hurried and determined. He was always so pleased to see a light rain outside as he rushed towards the Tube station.

The commute between the MI6 headquarters and Regent’s Park couldn’t happen fast enough but when he finally found himself in the path towards the familiar red pavilion, he started feeling lighter as if he was coming home.

Always and everyday, as spring showers continued to fall, Merlin was always there in their rendezvous spot in the gardens. Merlin would have already been there for thirty minutes, practicing his cello or reading a book. But when Arthur came to sit with him, he usually paused what he was doing, pushed his glasses against the bridge of his nose with a bright smile, and then asked Arthur about his day.

“My day’s just fine,” Arthur said as he sat at his usual spot, adjacent from Merlin. “How was yours?”

“It was normal,” Merlin said. “Not too bad and not too good. Just normal.”

“Oh yeah? What happened?”

“The usual,” Merlin said with a shrug. “Theory of music. History. Lots of practice. And the normal subjects.”

“What’s your favourite subject then?” Arthur asked curiously.

“I love practicing most of all so that I could get better. But besides Music, I love Literature. What was your favourite when you were at school, Arthur?”

Arthur thought back to his schooldays, which now seemed like a lifetime ago. “I loved History and a little bit of Science. I loved reading about all the wars and kingdoms of the past. It seems like a great time to be alive back then. A man’s worth could be measured by the way he wields his sword and there was a code. A knight’s code, kings and their kingdoms, and adventures all over the land. These days, it’s so rare to find a manly man. Even in the cinema, everyone seems to worship androgynous, sensitive men. What ever happened to Clint Eastwood types?”

Merlin looked up at him, his shoulders shaking with mirth. “And you think you’re the Clint Eastwood type?”

“Of course,” Arthur said confidently, puffing up his chest so that Merlin could see the bulk of his muscles. “I work hard to get this, you know. I am a killing machine.”

“You probably need bandages,” Merlin said, his lips twitching.

“What? Why’s that?” Arthur asked, confused.

“Because you’re cut! You're ripped!” Merlin said, laughter slipping out as he leaned forward, bowing his head so that he could chortle quietly.

Arthur stared at him, almost not believing that Merlin had just said what sounded like such an atrocious joke.

“Merlin?” he said. When Merlin looked up from beneath his fringe, his glasses glinting in the faint light from the rainy sky outside the pavilion, Arthur rolled his eyes before he pulled his head into a headlock, ruffling his soft curls as he inhaled the scent of his hair. It smelled like vanilla and sandalwood, fresh and clean.

“Arthur, let go!” Merlin said, as he struggled against Arthur’s strong unrelenting grip, laughter never ceasing.

“But you tell such awful jokes!” Arthur said. “Do you solemnly swear not to tell anymore bad jokes?”

“I swear!”

As Arthur finally let go of him, Merlin pulled away from his chest, a big grin on his face. His cheeks were pink underneath his cheekbones, and he was breathing deeply, with his mouth open. Arthur always found it so hard to look away from Merlin’s lips whenever the boy looked at him like that.

Thankfully, Merlin turned once more to his cello, taking it out of its case. But when he pulled it between his thighs, a shy look directed at Arthur as if it was an innocent seduction, Arthur’s blood boiled as he imagined what it would be like to be in the cello’s place. The thought, of course, was short-lived as he tried to remember who he was – he couldn’t afford to do more than have these fleeting illicit thoughts.

But Merlin only looked at him with an expectant smile as he pressed his cheek against the cello, positioning the bow against a string. “Do you have any requests, Arthur? I’ll play a song just for you.”

And hearing that offer, as he heard it almost everyday, brightened up Arthur’s day – all stresses and worries falling away so easily.

“You decide,” Arthur said, heart tugging as Merlin began to play his cello.

The song that Merlin played came from a movie he despised and yet the instrumental song was beautiful and as Arthur listened, he could almost hear its lyrics in his mind, ‘I have died everyday waiting for you. Darling, don’t be afraid I have loved you for a thousand years. I’ll love you for a thousand more. And all along, I believed I would find you. Time has brought your heart to me. I have loved you for a thousand years. I’ll love you for a thousand more…’

When it ended, Merlin looked up at him hesitantly, his eyes full of what almost seemed like restrained affection.

“That was pretty good,” Arthur said, surprising even his self because his voice was hoarse with emotion. “Well done.”

“Sometimes, it’s as if…” Merlin said, before pausing and shaking his head slowly. “Never mind.”

“What is it?”

“It’s just…” Merlin said before looking up at him again with warmth. “It’s as if I know you. Not now but… A long, long time ago. I know it doesn’t make sense but…”

“No,” Arthur said before reaching out to almost touch Merlin’s cheek, every part of him wanting to caress the soft face with his fingers. But instead, he patted Merlin's head once before regretfully pulling away. He gave the boy a kind smile. “No, I know it doesn’t make sense but... I understand how you feel.”

“Maybe we lived during the era of knights and kings, right?” Merlin said with a laugh. “You were a knight while I was a…”

“A princess?” Arthur said with a chuckle.

“Prat!” Merlin said, shaking his head even as he grinned. “No, maybe a bard who sang songs about how ugly and incompetent you were.”

“Is that you trying to tell me that you think I’m a handsome macho stud?” Arthur teased.

“Oh my gosh, are you overcompensating for something?” Merlin said, waggling his brows as he glanced down quickly to take a peek at Arthur’s crotch. His face coloured a deep shade of pink although he tried to remain impassive and cool.

“You better watch yourself,” Arthur said in warning although he remained amused. “You don’t want the anaconda to come out and bite you, do you?”

Merlin looked at him for one moment before laughing so hard, his eyes became like half-moons, crinkled up at the sides. “I regret what I said earlier. You weren’t a knight!”

“And what was I then?” Arthur said, grinning as he humoured Merlin.

“What else but the king of bad jokes!” Merlin said. “Arthur, you were the village idiot in your former life!”

Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, Arthur pulled Merlin’s head against his chest once more, ruffling the familiar soft curls with the familiar scent that made his belly tighten with affection and desire. He loved every moment with his favourite boy and hoped it would never end.

Outside their little hideaway, unnoticed, the rain fell gently all around them, a soothing sound that accompanied the warm laughter of friends from inside the pavilion.

**********

**_To be continued..._**


	3. Between the Shadow and the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road between the graves in a Welsh village and the secret garden of Regent's Park in London was a long and unhappy one but there's always hope for the brave.
> 
> “But it is the nature of stars to cross, and never was Shakespeare more wrong than when he has Cassius note, ‘The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars / But in ourselves.'”  
> ― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All characters are the property of BBC. This is merely a work of fiction.  
> Inspired by the beautiful short anime movie, "The Garden of Words".
> 
> “The most beautiful people I've known are those who have known trials, have known struggles, have known loss, and have found their way out of the depths.”  
> -Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

The greatest childhood memory that Merlin would ever have would be walking with his Mum and Dad in the Forest of Dean for Bonfire Night on a cold November evening. He was possibly only three or four years of old, tiny as he walked between the two of them, his small, gloved hands clutched securely inside their big ones. They had walked amongst stalls that had food, toys and masks, and he’d begged so much to keep on playing all sorts of games so as to win a prize. Eventually, Merlin received a stuffed grey fuzzy dragon from a kindly old lady after more than ten attempts to win the game at her stall.

After all the excitement, they all sat down with a group, huddled around a great big bonfire as an old man told them stories of all sorts, from the faeries hiding in the forest that sometimes confused or trapped humans, to the popular tale of King Arthur and the Round Table who were aided by the old mage Merlin. Hearing that story had made Merlin’s heart swell in pride, as he learned about a man with a great destiny – the only person who had shared his name. And it was to that story that he fell asleep, in the arms of his father. He barely registered the long walk back to their car while the fireworks blossomed like loud exploding stars in the black sky, as he was safely carried back in strong warm arms, his fuzzy new plush dragon clutched securely against his cheek.

That had been the final and best memory he’d had of his father for Balinor left for Afghanistan soon afterwards, only to return home after six months in a wooden box.

After that, his mother had never been the same. She’d remained kind to him, making his breakfast and dinner, teaching him how to cook, clean, and prepare him for becoming independent one day, as well as taking him to music classes, and reading to him mostly every night. And yet, there was a haunted shadow in her eyes and even when she smiled, it didn’t seem as if it was in her heart to do so. Merlin always knew where to find her whenever he came home to an empty house after primary school ended for the day. With a heavy heart, he made his way slowly to the village’s church grounds where Hunith would be, sitting quietly next to Balinor’s grave. Merlin would always stand at the entrance to the graveyard for a long time, afraid to come closer and yet needing to bring his mother back with him so that they could go back home.

The years went on and on but her heart remained broken. No matter how much Merlin practiced his various instruments and despite her proud smile as she watched his every music performance, he could never erase the hidden anguish in her heart. He would never be enough, never to fill the empty space left behind by his father.

When Merlin was ten years old, she told him that he would have to move to London to live with Dr. Gaius Walsh, who was her much older cousin. They had found the best music school for him, for when he would start secondary school at the age of eleven. Merlin could hardly be persuaded to go, still needing his mother. But after Gaius picked him up to take a tour of the historic Royal Music Academy in London, Merlin’s whole perspective changed.

In the music school, he watched as older children went about in smart red-striped ties and grey blazers with red piping on the lapel, as well as a dragon crest upon the breast above the heart. He sat in on various classes, mesmerised as they learned about the classics and how much the masters had made an impact in history – Beethoven, Mozart, Bach, and the like. He thoroughly enjoyed mingling with the students as they let him play the piano while they all practiced and did their own version of various songs, including pop music from the radio. There had even been an enthusiastic and kind teacher named Mr. Gwaine, who was very skilled in playing an acoustic guitar and loved to get the whole class to sing British pop and rock classics from the Beatles to the Rolling Stones.

But when Merlin called his mother that night, excited and now very willing to stay with his Uncle Gaius since the old man lived so close to the school, it was a constable who picked up the phone instead. Earlier that day, Hunith Emrys had phoned the local police station, informing them that she had ‘changed her mind’. But when they got to her house, it had already been too late, her heart failing due to a pain killer overdose. Despite all attempts to revive her, they had been unsuccessful.

Merlin knew immediately that she had never intended to ‘change her mind’ for she had already found Balinor in the afterlife. His mother had spent so long looking for him even when she was still alive, after all. They were together now and he should be happy for them...

That was the day when Merlin learned about what it meant to be alone in the world.

And yet, he wasn’t truly alone.

After Merlin went back home with Gaius so as to bury his mother next to his father’s grave, all he could remember was staring at her white casket that had been covered with beautiful summer flowers. He’d felt so small and insignificant as he watched her being lowered into the ground. And only Gaius’s steady hand upon his shoulder kept him from sobbing hysterically as he put on a brave face for the people all around them, needing now to be strong for his dear parents.

Gaius brought him back to London with most of his things afterwards, his warmth pressed against Merlin’s arm as he watched the fields and forests pass them by outside the train. Numb, heavy days of that cool summer passed them by as Merlin kept hiding in his new room in the city, buried beneath his duvet with his old plush dragon toy as he thought only of his parents. He ate very rarely and when the silence became too deafening, he buried his head in his favourite fiction books that involved death, such as ‘The Hunger Games’ and ‘The Fault in Our Stars’. It would have been easier if he too was on his way to the grave, where his parents now waited for him.

His state of inaction went on for weeks and even as Gaius coaxed him to visit the cinema, go to the theatre, or play in the nearby park, Merlin had shut him out with silence, not quite ready to face the world yet.

In the middle of August, a few weeks before his last year of primary school would have started for him, Gaius came in and sat next to him in bed, putting a letter next to his pillow. Merlin ignored it long after his uncle had left, childishly sullen. Eventually though, curiosity and restlessness got ahold of him and he forced himself to sit up.

Opening the blank envelope with hesitation, Merlin held his breath as he pulled the letter out. Inside, was an acceptance letter to join Mr. Gwaine’s class, despite not meeting the minimum age requirement. It seemed as if Gaius had pulled out all the stops so as to get him into the Royal Academy of Music and Merlin felt his heart burst out in hope and relief, the idea of joining his longed-for school becoming a reality even if he would attend one year too early, as a special preparatory student.

After that, Merlin tried harder in his new home, helping Gaius out by making breakfast before the old man left for his job at the hospital and cleaning up whatever he could. Merlin was also introduced to a young social worker named Gwen who, despite being awkward at first, was very kind and warm to him. She never withheld hugs whenever he became quiet during their meetings, his eyes cast downward as he tried to control his emotions the way that the British were expected to when faced with adversity – with a stiff upper lip.

Autumn came and classes began. He thrived in Mr. Gwaine’s class as he concentrated on nothing but mastering his instruments, memorizing chords, theories, and songs. Merlin’s cocoon of protectiveness around his mourning heart started to fall away, melted by the kindness of Gaius, the warmth of Gwen, and the eager friendliness of his teacher Gwaine. 

The year afterwards, Merlin finally began ‘officially’ in the Royal Academy of Music at the age of eleven. After a long summer holiday in an Italian villa with Gaius and his other elderly friends, Merlin returned to school fully refreshed and revitalised, a stronger person than he was last year.

When he did, he became more cheerful, friendly to the new boys and girls who were starting school in the academy for the first time. That was when he finally met his best friends Will and Freya, who both shared his interests in music and performance. And together, with the earnest guidance of their teacher Mr. Gwaine, they started jamming together in lunch-time sessions, practicing as much instruments and songs as they could while they blended together with synchronised harmony. That was until one day, Mr. Gwaine came up with the idea that they should form a band and start recording videos for they were often told that they were good enough.

Soon, they perfected all sorts of songs and started recording tons of music videos although they rarely decided to post any of them, especially the earlier ones they did. When they released their first video online, they were pleasantly surprised to gain so much ‘likes’ and it inspired them to become even better than before, choosing to become even more professional. And that was how their Harry Potter video had come to be, with Gwaine directing and shooting the video all around London. To date, that video was still their most popular.

With regards to their band’s name, it was a rather hard decision. Will kept insisting on fanboy names that featured stuff from Game of Thrones like ‘Direwolf’ and Freya meekly suggested cutesy names such as ‘The Black Cat Club’. Eventually, after sitting down to have a heart to heart about their lives, they all agreed on one name.

Just as Merlin was an orphan, so too was Will a half-orphan whose father had been lost in the Iraq war. It had caused Will to become such a troublemaker when he was younger that his mother almost gave up on him. Fortunately, she found out how much music interested him and how much he thrived in his lessons – which eventually led him to applying for their current school. 

Similarly, Freya hadn’t been lucky as well. She had been a drug baby who had been taken away from a young junkie mother. Although she had never known her biological mother and had been raised by loving normal adoptive parents instead, the strain from early troubles had made her a sickly child, especially when she was younger. Music had been her one constant love in life, soothing her and making her strong.

Thus, their band’s name: “Lost Souls”, because that was what they were before they’d found music and each other.

It made the three of them thrive in school, happy in doing what they loved the most.

But unfortunately, just as Merlin had slowly been healing from the loss of his mother just a year back, another tragedy struck. At the age of sixty-eight, Dr. Gaius Walsh suffered a stroke while he was attending a board meeting in Trinity Hospital where he worked.

Merlin would always remember that day. He had been walking home after school, a red umbrella shielding him against the freezing winter rain that fell from the heavens. When he was close to the newly installed red pavilion next to the green waters of the lake, he stopped as he felt his mobile buzzing in his pocket. The unfamiliar voice at the other end of the line sounded so cool and professional as she told him that his uncle was in critical condition and that he should hurry to the hospital as soon as he could. 

That night, as he sat all alone in the waiting room, Merlin’s whole body shook in fear as he wondered gravely if he was so unlucky that he caused everyone he loved to die. It was the longest night of his life as he waited without hearing a word from anyone, stubbornly trying to keep the wetness in his eyes from falling down his cheeks.

Hour after hour, he remained unmoving as he patiently waited. Soon, the early light of a new day came. But after the faint colours of dawn faded, replaced by a bright sun filtering in through the window in that drab waiting room, Merlin looked at his watch and realised that he was supposed to be in school. Soon, his phone buzzed and when he picked up, a concerned Mr. Gwaine asked him where he was. When Merlin told him what happened with a calm voice that didn’t sound like his own, his teacher assured him that he would come to him later on that day, after he had found a substitute teacher. But it was Gwen who arrived at the hospital first, possibly after Mr. Gwaine had informed her of what had happened.

Gwen did all the talking for him as she went to speak to Gaius’s doctors, complaining about why they left a young boy all alone all night, without even a reassuring word. Sometime during the night, Gaius had become stable after an operation, and he was now recovering. But the doctor warned that Gaius wouldn’t be the same, that they would be forced to retire him, and he was recommended to be put in hospice care immediately so that he could live the rest of his life in peace.

The stroke had been one thing and he should be able to recover from it. But they had also found cancer in his chest cavity and he would be lucky to live for a year.

Afterward, when they were finally allowed in Gaius’s room, Merlin stood unmoving next to Gaius’s side for a long time. He watched the old man, afraid because Gaius looked so frail and small as he lay sleeping in his narrow hospital bed, surrounded by machines and tubes. Guiltily, it made Merlin wonder if he was at fault for putting the old man in that situation. Gaius should never have been taking care of a boy at his advanced age, especially one who was as broken as Merlin was. And now Gaius was going to die and there was nothing that Merlin could do about it. He wasn’t even old enough to care for his uncle himself, in the flat that they shared.

And so, when Gwen spoke to him in the hospital café afterwards during a forced but tasteless breakfast, Merlin asked her what was going to happen to him, if Gaius needed specialised care from now on. But Gwen only looked sad, quiet as she sighed wearily. Gaius’s stroke had left him half-paralyzed and unable to speak coherently, one of his eyes droopy. Gwen would have to find new arrangements for him once again.

When spring came, as Gaius’s doctor friend Alice came to take him to her home in Brighton, Merlin moved in to the nearby flat of his other uncle, who was Gaius’s younger brother. Aredian was tall, in his late fifties, and hardly resembled Gaius. But he’d been tolerant at taking in his nephew, even as he shook his hand for the first time with a grim line upon his lips. Merlin feared him a little for he was a stern man, as well as cold, mysterious, and aloof.

Mostly, since he was a busy man, Aredian left Merlin alone and they hardly spoke to each other. He always stayed out late at night, forcing Merlin to cook and eat alone at the dinner table. The few times they had supper together had been quiet and awkward as Merlin tried to make small talk, asking about Aredian’s children who were so much older than him and were now living independently overseas. But the man had been abrupt, answering the bare minimum until Merlin felt like giving up, their meals becoming silent as if they both started pretending that the other didn’t exist.

Perhaps the one thing that made Merlin most nervous about living with Aredian was the bewildering state he found himself in sometimes, as he fell into a deep sleep each night. Whenever he woke up in the morning, his whole body felt stiff and full of ache as if he’d been running for miles during the night. It was more than the slow onset of puberty that he was starting to feel, that much he knew, for there was always a crawling sensation down his spine. It was as if the place was haunted, as if a ghost was always smothering him in his sleep. He was just glad that he never ran into Aredian in the morning because he was usually on edge at that time.

Merlin instead went downstairs to eat the breakfast that his uncle usually left for him, turning on the TV in the kitchen so as to tune in to morning news and learn if he needed to bring his umbrella to school that day. After doing the dishes, he went upstairs to brush his teeth, shower, and change into his school uniform, putting on his black-framed glasses afterwards. With an instrument strapped around his back and a leather satchel wrapped across his body, he locked the flat up and walked through Regent’s Park, missing his parents and his Uncle Gaius with a heavy heart and yet relieved that at least he still had his friends and the passion for music that they shared in common.

**********

In the middle of spring during Merlin’s second year in the Royal Academy of Music, Merlin received his first letter from Brighton. Gaius wrote him with a shaky yet sophisticated script, asking him for his forgiveness for failing as a guardian and for abandoning him prematurely in his youth. But he also tried to reassure Merlin that he was a stubborn old man, not willing to go down without a fight. That one of these days, maybe during the summer, they’d see each other again.

It wasn’t much but it gave him hope. Merlin carried Gaius’s letters in his bag always, like a talisman, as he went about each day. He tried to be positive and strong for his uncle just as the old man was trying to fight cancer’s attempt on his life. Instead of moping and trying to feel sorry for himself, he attempted to find comfort in his friends, his music, and quite suddenly, the handsome mysterious man who kept looking his way each rainy afternoon, when he was hiding out in the red pavilion in Regent’s Park, not quite willing to go back home to a place that he had never felt welcome.

It always gave him a heady rush when the well-dressed man with the broad shoulders and strong muscles stared at him with lingering eyes, making his young heart flutter in what could only be an indication of a fierce first crush.

The road between the graves in a Welsh village and the secret garden of Regent's Park in London was a long and unhappy one but there was always hope if he tried his best to be brave. Maybe in time, the rain would stop and he would once again feel the warmth that had abandoned him so long ago.

**********

**_To be continued..._**


	4. Mocha-Flavoured Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin tries to seize the moment, leading to a stolen moment in their secret place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All characters are the property of BBC. This is merely a work of fiction.  
> Inspired by the beautiful short anime movie, "The Garden of Words".
> 
> “There is never a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment.”  
> ―Sarah Dessen, The Truth About Forever

“Do you want to go to the Dragon Café after school?” Will asked, tapping his foot restlessly under his desk as they waited for their teacher to come in the classroom for the final period. “Freya and I could delay taking the Tube back. You’re willing to skip out on your ballet lessons today, right Freya?”

Startled at the question, Merlin forced himself to turn away from staring at the dark rainclouds outside the classroom and focus instead on his friend. Will raised an eyebrow questioningly while Freya smiled and nodded next to him. Merlin blinked in confusion at the offer. He had wanted nothing more than for the last period to end so he could walk briskly with his school things to Regent’s Park, and wait patiently for his friend Arthur. 

“But it’s raining.” he said carefully. “You never skip out on your afterschool lessons when it rains.”

Will, ever so perceptive, narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “I thought you would be happy, Merlin. It’s been raining for weeks without end. We haven’t been out together for so long. Anything wrong?”

“You will let us know if something was wrong, won’t you Merlin?” Freya asked as well, a concerned look in her soft gaze.

Merlin smiled and nodded at her before turning to Will with a shrug. “Nothing’s wrong. You two worry too much.”

“So you’ll go?” Will said, raising a brow. “I know you hate being alone in your uncle’s house.”

“Uh…” Merlin mumbled, his mind trying to come up with a good excuse to get out of it. “Well…”

“Wait a minute,” Freya said, her head tilting to the side in thought. “Are you avoiding us, Merlin?”

“You’re avoiding us!” Will said, an accusing tone in his voice. “What aren’t you telling us? Is that guy Cenred from fourth year bothering you again? If I find out that he’s been bullying you-”

“No, nothing like that!” Merlin said hastily. “Headmaster Helen has already given him a warning for that one time.”

“That one time when he gave you that black eye?” Will said, looking angry. “You’re not hiding any other bruises under your uniform, are you?”

“I can take care of myself,” Merlin said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Besides, you would have seen more bruises if there were any during swimming lessons before lunch. Stop being so suspicious, Will.”

Will sighed dramatically, putting his hands up as he shared a look with Freya. “If your uncle was there for you, we wouldn’t have to keep a closer eye on you. Who else will take care of you but us?”

“Yup,” Freya said brightly. “We’ve adopted you now. I’m your big sister and Will’s your big brother.”

“Hardly,” Merlin said, although he was smiling at them. “I’m taller than you both.”

“We’re all the same height!” Will said. “Just wait until I get a growth spurt!”

Merlin and Freya laughed while Will just grinned at them.

“So coffee at Dragon Café afterwards then?” Freya said. “Or are you going to finally tell us that you’ve fallen in love?”

Will quite suddenly looked like a fish out of water, with his jaw dropping at Freya’s question while Merlin tried to fight the blush that made his face heat up like a furnace.

“So it’s true!” Freya said happily before she whispered her next question, “Is it Mr. Gwaine?”

Merlin’s eyes widened as Will cackled in his seat. “No! Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Don’t play coy, Merlin.” Will said with a smirk on his face. “We see the way he looks at you.”

“He has a girlfriend – Ms. Elena!” Merlin hissed at him in a fierce whisper.

“Oh, so someone else?” Freya said, looking intrigued. “Do we know him? Is it a student as well?”

“And you meet with this person after school, I take it?” Will said. “That’s why you don’t want to hang out with your friends?”

“Too many questions!” Merlin complained with a groan. “I don’t ask you two about your love life.”

“What love life?” Will said as he turned around briefly to glance at Freya, his face reddening as he looked back at Merlin. He pursed his lips. “Stop changing the topic, Merlin!”

Freya’s cheeks became rosy as well even as she said, “We’re talking about you, Merlin. What’s his name?”

Merlin rolled his eyes, pressured, although he couldn’t help the grin that turned his lips up at the thought of his crush. “Alright, alright,” he said, giving in. “His name is Arthur.”

“Student?” Freya asked in a softer voice as at the front of the classroom, Mr. Gwaine came in to write their homework for tonight on the blackboard.

“Not a student,” Merlin said, his belly fluttering in nervous excitement at revealing his crush to his friends.

“Teacher?” Will asked in a quiet voice as well, eyeing Merlin from the corner of his eyes as he turned to face forward, pretending to pay attention as Mr. Gwaine started to discuss their homework.

“Not a teacher,” Merlin said, beaming secretively as he copied the notes from the board.

“Then who is he?” Freya asked insistently.

“My king,” Merlin said playfully, restraining himself from laughing at his own joke. “And I’m his lionheart.”

Freya and Will groaned as they both stared at him, looking both annoyed and amused at the same time.

“You’re hopeless, Merlin!” they both said at the same time, fond smiles upon their faces.

**********

After sharing a quick coffee with his friends at Dragon Café before they left together to catch the 4:45 Tube, Merlin ordered two more beverages – a hot chocolate for himself and mocha for Arthur. He fervently hoped that Arthur would like what he ordered for him.

The old man at the till handed the two cardboard cups to him, an interested look on his face. “So destiny awaits, young Merlin?”

Merlin looked up in surprise, glancing curiously at the strange old face that made him think of old mystical dragons, of all things. “Uh, do I know you? How do you know my name?”

The old man laughed in amusement as he looked down at the cups in Merlin’s hands, at where Merlin’s name was scribbled. “Never you mind, boy. Go on then.”

Confused at the encounter, Merlin left the café with hurried steps, dodging the stagnant traffic of red buses, cabs, and little European cars as he crossed the street. He made his way across the park uncomfortably, balancing two cups as he carried his heavy cello case on his back, his satchel at his side, and his red umbrella under an arm – all this while he tried to ignore the light rain that fell gently on his glasses, hair and uniform, getting him a little wet.

When he reached the red pavilion, Arthur was already there, not inside but right next to it. The older man was staring inside the empty pavilion with bewilderment, as if he was wondering where Merlin was. It made Merlin beam in excited relief at seeing him too as he treaded more softly so that his footsteps wouldn’t be heard as he planned to surprise Arthur.

It didn’t work though because soon, Arthur turned to stare at him, the concern on his face turning into a laugh as he watched Merlin struggling with all his things.

“Where were you?” Arthur said, coming forward to take a cup, as well as the cello case from Merlin’s back. “Are you stopping by here or are you heading home?”

“Of course I’m stopping here,” Merlin said shyly as he let Arthur help him out. “And my friends insisted on having coffee with me before they left.”

They entered the pavilion, setting down their things before sitting at their usual spots, the hot drinks steaming between them.

“I hope you like mocha,” Merlin said, glancing up at Arthur with a hopeful smile as he pushed his glasses against the bridge of his nose. “I’m not sure what you liked.”

“Well, I don’t really have a favourite,” Arthur said. “But thanks. You didn’t have to though. I’ll buy next time.”

They shared a brief grin at each other before looking away and picking up their drinks so as to sip on them.

“How was your day, Arthur?” Merlin asked as he let the creamy hot chocolate flavour warm him inside, the same way that Arthur’s friendly gaze warmed something in his chest.

“It was okay. Really busy,” Arthur said. “But I’m not complaining. I like my job. How was your day?”

“It was good,” Merlin said with a shrug. “Nothing unusual going on although the old man at the café said something weird to me.”

“Oh? What did he say?” Arthur asked curiously.

“Said something about my destiny waiting,” Merlin said with a small laugh. “Crazy talk.”

“Sounds like a senile old fool,” Arthur agreed.

“So…” Merlin said, feeling nervous as he reached into his bag to retrieve a ticket. He clutched the ticket in his hands as he stared at Arthur’s broad chest, eyes not leaving the red silk tie. “I don’t know if you like music but just in case, I was wondering if you were interested in going to a concert. It’s not professional or anything. Actually, it’s very amateur. Actually, it’s just me, my friends, and other kids in the school. It’ll be for this summer’s school music festival. But if you’re not doing anything on Saturday two weeks from now – well… You’re welcome to watch.”

When Merlin finally forced himself to look up, he found Arthur’s gaze softening as the older man smiled at him. “I’d love to. Isn’t that ticket reserved for your family members though?”

“Nah, my uncle would be busy that day,” Merlin said, biting his bottom lip as he wondered if Arthur was just trying to find a way to get out of it. “I’m not forcing you to go. We’re not very good yet. So you don’t have to go if you don’t want to. In fact, forget I asked – ”

But before Merlin could say anything else, the ticket disappeared from his hands in a split-second, vanishing behind Arthur’s inner blazer pocket.

“None sense, Merlin.” Arthur said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “Stop acting so humble. I know you guys are good. And don’t offer things to me only to change your mind afterwards. You’re going to drive a man insane that way.”

“Drive a man insane?” Merlin said uncomprehendingly before his eyes narrowed. “Hang on. You said we were good? How would you even know that? You’ve seen the videos online?”

Arthur smirked mysteriously but said nothing else.

“Oh you’ve seen them!” Merlin said, feeling mortified at the idea that Arthur had finally seen his music. “We’re not that good. Uh, why did I even – ” Merlin frowned before staring once more at Arthur’s chest. “I really should,” he said before trying to slyly reach forward and retrieve the ticket from inside the older man’s coat.

But Arthur’s reflex was so quick and before Merlin could even touch the lapel of his suit jacket, his strong iron-like hands were around Merlin’s wrists, making him tumble forward so that he was almost on Arthur’s lap. He could smell Arthur’s expensive cologne mingling with a rich spicy scent that was uniquely Arthur’s, and it made his belly tighten in a fierce need for the older man. Merlin’s whole face heated up as he blushed profusely while Arthur looked down at him with a raised brow.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Arthur asked in a cool, even voice. His eyes were amused but his whole body was rigid. They were so close together, Merlin nearly losing balance as he fought the urge to fall forward into Arthur’s broad muscular torso.

“Trying to take the ticket back?” Merlin said, a bashful grin upon his lips. “I don’t know why I even offered.”

“Too late,” Arthur just said before smirking and pushing him away gently so that he could sit once more at his usual place. “You really should learn to not tease people. It will get you in trouble someday.”

Once he was sitting back down, Merlin bit his lip worryingly, still quite regretful that he offered the ticket but trying to just let it go as well. Instead, he tried to focus more on the older man that kept haunting his every waking moment, from the moment he woke up to the final seconds before he fell asleep. He fervently wished he knew more about Arthur. Although they’ve spoken together and shared this space in the park for over a month, it was as if there were still hurdles between the two of them, a wide gulf that separated them.

“Not playing your cello today?” Arthur asked as he sipped on his mocha, his eyes studying Merlin with interest.

“No,” Merlin said, shaking his head. “Just…”

“Yes?”

“Well, we’ve been meeting almost everyday during weekdays but we hardly know anything about each other,” Merlin said. “I was wondering if we could just talk today.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Arthur said with a small smile. “You already know that my favourite colour is red.”

Merlin laughed, shaking his head. “That’s so inconsequential.”

“You love listening to acoustic performances of Ed Sheeran and Sam Smith. Apparently, they inspire you,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes playfully. “What else? You know that I love action movies while you’re more into Anime and stuff like ‘Lord of the Rings’ and ‘Harry Potter’. You’re more into reading. You love books from ‘Perks of a Wallflower’ to ‘One Hundred Years of Solitude’.”

“But I feel like I don’t really know anything of value,” Merlin insisted even as he felt his face flushing, feeling honoured that Arthur should know so much about his interests when he knew so little of Arthur’s. “You don’t even have a favourite coffee.”

Arthur stared at him for one moment before bursting out with laughter that seemed amused and yet also fond. “And if I really don’t have a favourite? Anyway, I don’t even know how old you are. You’re obviously under sixteen years old.”

Merlin looked embarrassed but tried his best to be brave as he grinned up cheekily at Arthur. “And why should it matter? Anyway, that question is what I’ve been waiting for.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re interested in me, aren’t you? But because you think I’m young, you’re not going to do anything,” Merlin said despite the awkwardness that he felt. He felt overtly warm beneath the collar of his uniform as he struggled to keep the wild emotions from becoming visible on his face as he pushed on, “But the truth is, you want to kiss me, to– ”

But before he could say anything more incriminating, Arthur’s big warm hand was covering his lips and Merlin was almost going insane at the warm delicious scent of it as the older man had stood up and was now in front of him, leaning down so that their eyes were on the same level, staring at each other.

“Don’t,” Arthur said in a controlled voice, some unknown emotion dancing in his blue eyes. “That’s quite enough of that.”

Merlin tried to vainly glare up at him. But the best he could come up with was to stare longingly at the older man, trying his best to put all that he felt in his eyes.

But with a sigh, Arthur shook his head as he pulled his warm hand away from his lips, leaving Merlin’s skin feeling cold. “No, Merlin.”

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Merlin watched the blond hair falling across the older man’s golden skin, observed the blue eyes that looked as if they longed for him the same way that he longed for the older man. And then he looked down at the noble nose and finally at the arrogant mouth. And before he could think of anything else, he grabbed a fistful of Arthur’s red silk tie and pulled the man closer, as he pressed his lips against Arthur’s in a warm kiss that they both didn’t expect.

Merlin immediately anticipated to be pushed away as his lips tingled at the contact and his heart beated a mile a minute inside his ribcage. It felt so good tasting the mocha on Arthur’s lips and he tried now to recall every kissing scene from every book that he had ever read – should he open his mouth, use his tongue, or…?

But he need not try to embarrassingly analyze it any further because Arthur had suddenly taken command of the kiss, his big hands tilting Merlin’s face gently to the side. Arthur’s mouth opened against Merlin’s own and his slippery tongue probed against his lips, licking hungrily across its surface before moving inward so that it slid wetly against Merlin’s own tongue.

Merlin shuddered in excitement and want as he wrapped his arms around Arthur’s neck, needing so much more than this even as he let the older man probe deeper, the taste of mocha and hot chocolate mingling hotly inside their mouths. All he wanted now was to go home with this man, to let Arthur do whatever he wanted to him in the privacy of his home.

And the kiss continued for what seemed like minutes, the cloudy rainy sky, the park’s flowers, trees and lake disappearing behind their closed eyes as their world was reduced to that one delicious stolen kiss in the red pavilion.

When at last, they finally parted, Arthur’s eyes had darkened with a powerful desire, making Merlin shiver breathlessly at being at the receiving end of it. But when Arthur spoke, it was full of controlled composure. “We really shouldn’t.”

“But–” Merlin insisted, something inside his chest twisting painfully at Arthur’s words.

“You know we shouldn’t,” Arthur said carefully, as if Merlin was just a child. “You don’t want me to get in trouble, do you?”

“Why should it even matter?” Merlin said, feeling frustrated. “It wouldn’t have mattered years ago.”

“You mean hundreds of years ago?” Arthur said with a kind smile. “But it’s against the law now.”

“It’s not like I’m a child,” Merlin said. “I’m old enough to know what I want.”

“Are you sixteen?” Arthur asked gently.

“No, but–”

“So you see…” Arthur said, trailing off.

“It’s not fair,” Merlin said, trying his best to not pout but barely succeeding. “I want to be with you.”

“I know,” Arthur said in a self-possessed tone, even as he stared at Merlin’s lips. “I understand.”

“We can’t just keep it a secret?” Merlin asked hopefully.

Arthur shook his head regretfully. “I’m afraid not.”

Merlin sighed, defeated, before looking down at his brogue leather shoes, trying now to avoid Arthur’s eyes. “You’re just being nice, aren’t you? Being friendly? You don’t have to pity me, Arthur. I’m stuck in this childish place while you’re in the adult world. Why would you even look twice at someone like me?”

“Merlin–”

“Thank you for your friendship,” Merlin said as he looked up at Arthur with a bright smile, trying to hide the humiliation and disappointment that he felt. “I hope you won’t avoid me from now on because of what I did. I’m sorry.”

Arthur frowned but said nothing, something in his eyes trying to hide behind a mask of coolness. “It’s for the best and you know it. You understand, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Merlin mumbled. 

They were both silent then, as Arthur remained rigid as he stood still in front of Merlin, looking as if something inside himself was warring, as if he was wondering if he should or shouldn’t.

With a sigh, Merlin forced himself to get up and retrieve his school things.

“Where are you going?” Arthur asked as Merlin stood before him, so close and yet so far away.

“I’m going home,” Merlin said, trying not to frown. He tried his best to smile instead even as he felt his heart breaking. “See you tomorrow if it rains, right?”

“Right,” Arthur said in a tight voice. “But I’m heading the same way. Let’s walk together, shall we?”

Merlin hesitated for a brief moment before forcing himself to nod. Arthur looked at him uncomfortably then went to pick up Merlin’s cello case and his coffee. He then opened his black umbrella and walked out into the rain, waiting for Merlin at the threshold.

That afternoon, Merlin and Arthur walked together for the first time underneath a black umbrella, their sides brushing against each other and their lips tingling, summer flowers beginning to blossom around the path that led away from the green lake. Rain continued to pour down gently, splashing about their leather shoes. They were quiet the whole time as they walked through Regent’s Park but soon, the embarrassment that they both felt slowly melted as Arthur nudged Merlin’s arm playfully.

When Merlin looked up, Arthur was looking down at him with what looked like a friendly half-smile.

With his heart beating nervously in his chest, Merlin smiled back.

“You’re such a prat,” Merlin mumbled, despite the awkwardness that he still felt.

“I know,” Arthur said. “But you wouldn’t want me any other way, wouldn’t you?”

“Why do you have to be such an old man anyway?” Merlin said, nudging Arthur’s arm back with a grin.

“Did you just – ” Arthur said disbelievingly, his eyes widening at being called an old man at twenty-seven years old.

But Merlin just laughed before running away from him, getting wet by the rain as he did.

“Come back here, you idiot!” Arthur said, running after him with his umbrella, his lips turning up in a pleased smile as well. “You’re going to get wet!”

“Then stop making me wet!” Merlin just said, looking back over his shoulder with a teasing look in his eyes. “Catch me if you can, old man!”

Arthur laughed as he sped up to catch him and when Merlin felt the warm strong arm wrapping around his shoulders, he grinned up at Arthur.

“I’m not that old, idiot,” Arthur said, squeezing him as he covered them both with the umbrella once more.

“And I’m not that young, prat,” Merlin insisted, beaming up at him.

“Idiot,” Arthur said once more, shaking his head with a hidden grin.

“Prat!” Merlin exclaimed, grinning back.

And they continued the exchange as they walked from Regent’s Park to Primrose Hill, Merlin directing Arthur to where his building was. After Arthur dropped him off at the front of his uncle’s flat, Merlin stood leaning for a long time against the inside of the front door, rain water from his wet clothes dripping down to form a small puddle on the bare wooden floor as he couldn’t resist himself from smiling like a loon. His lips still tingled with pleasure and he could still taste mocha. All he wanted in the world was to turn around and follow Arthur home, to never come back to this place again.

Maybe one day, he thought. Maybe one day he and Arthur would never be apart again.

**********

**_To be continued..._**


	5. Latching on to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur was definitely in trouble as his obsession turns more into an addiction. Merlin isn't helping any as he reads 'Lolita' in front of him, asks for dates, and stars in his dreams and fantasies. What a life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All characters are the property of BBC. This is merely a work of fiction.  
> Inspired by the beautiful short anime movie, "The Garden of Words".
> 
> “This isn't a crush, it's obsession.You are never not in my thoughts. Your scent carries across a room and paralyzes me with longing. I don't want to hold your hand. Part of me wants to set you on fire and hold you while the flame consumes us both, to eat your heart so I know that only I possess it entirely.”  
> -Gwen Hayes, Falling Under

When Arthur finally arrived back in his flat, he tried to act as normal as he could. He ate the delicious Spaghetti Bolognese, Cucumber Salad, and Garlic Bread that George had prepared but couldn’t find it in himself to enjoy it as much as he used to. He even consumed the small bowl of vanilla bean gelato and sipped on the wineglass of Moscato until both bowl and wineglass were empty, but still he could not find pleasure.

Beneath his combat-trained, solid body, his veins thrummed with mad energy, as all he could think about was Merlin’s delicious chocolate-flavoured lips upon his own and the way that their tongues had slid together inside their mouths. It had taken everything in him earlier that afternoon to let it stop at that one stolen kiss at the park. If he’d had his way, Merlin would have been in his flat right now, being spoon-fed some vanilla bean gelato while he sat on Arthur’s lap (while George spluttered at the sight).

Arthur was in trouble.

That night, as he lay in bed in his boxers, balancing his laptop on his chest, he once more watched Merlin’s old videos. As he watched, he tried to concentrate only at the good feeling that he felt at seeing him even if it was just on screen. He lingered on the song “Turning Tables” because the Adele song was done so uniquely in Merlin’s own way, so different although it still gave justice to the original. It was also the one video that seemed to have focused so much on Merlin in such a personal way because he was the only vocalist, with close-ups that showed off the blueness of his eyes beneath his glasses, the sharpness of his defined cheekbones, and the casual way that his dark curls fell against ears that made him think of faeries. And the manner in which Merlin looked both confident yet modest, passionate but still shy tugged something in Arthur, making him want to reach out inside the laptop as if he could pull Merlin out and tuck him in bed with him. If Arthur would ever have a chance to hold Merlin in the safety of his arms, hidden inside his room, he’d probably never let him go again.

In his dreams that night, his longing became even greater, as his inhibitions fell away. As he slept, he could clearly picture Merlin on his bed, blushing and covering himself as Arthur loomed above him, a heavy presence that coaxed pleasure from the boy with hands and lips, touching him everywhere he could as he ran his fingers through the soft curls on his head, his elfin ears, his prominent cheekbones, plush lips, long neck, and the softness of his skin from his long limbs to the slight chest with lovely little nipples. And then Arthur would part Merlin’s thighs, running his hands inside with calloused fingers so that Merlin could do nothing else but tremble in pleasure beneath him. He’d touch Merlin intimately, waking up his inexperienced desire as he closed one hand around the boy’s cock and entered the tight furled entrance with a slick finger.

And then in the morning, Arthur woke up with an unsatisfied groan at realizing that it was just a dream, his whole body damp with sweat and his prick very hard inside his boxers, desperately needing release. He almost felt guilty if not for the fact that he was logical enough to know that whatever was in the privacy of his mind was merely fantasy. So Arthur let the dream linger on, smelling the warm phantom scent of vanilla and sandalwood as he imagined - in his mind’s eye - what it would feel like for his cock to be clamped down by Merlin’s tight, hot willing young body. 

Arthur would probably try not to come the moment he was inside the snug wet space, and it would feel like heaven when he finally moved, making the boy mewl and arch up from the sheets, wanting more. Merlin would love it, as much as Arthur did. It would last as long as Arthur could sustain it, only pausing so that Arthur could try out new positions, rolling over so that he could let Merlin bounce up and down upon his lap, riding his cock shyly yet enthusiastically. And then Arthur would roll them over yet again and turn the boy around so that he would be on his hands and knees and the penetration would become even deeper, Arthur making him cry out with how fervently he would claim him. And finally, after almost an hour after Merlin had come several times all over his sheets, Arthur would pull away and tell Merlin to sit up and open wide so that he could receive Arthur’s come on his tongue. And Merlin would be pleased and happy as he swallowed Arthur’s seed, looking debauched with his messy hair and flushed cheeks yet enjoying every second of it.

Finally, back in his bed with the dirty fantasy reaching its climax in his mind as he stroked his cock vigorously inside his fist, Arthur groaned as he came all over his hard abdominal muscles, some of it getting caught on the dark golden hairs on his chest.

Arthur was definitely in trouble.

**********

Thankful again for another rainy afternoon, Arthur leaned back against the bench under the red pavilion, stretching his legs and letting his body relax. The workday had been another long one, starting so early so that he missed the Krav Maga training he usually had at the gym on Thursdays because of an emergency teleconference from Pakistan. And it had gone from bad to worse, when the meddling of his relative Agravaine du Bois from MI5 came to his attention because the man was trying to claim some recent (supposedly top-secret) successes of MI6, so that he could build up his resume as he prepared for a prospective career in politics.

And then lunch with his mates Leon and Elyan had been atrocious because when the bumbling waitress with the nametag that said ‘Elena’ came over with their drinks, she had stumbled and drenched his expensive suit so much that he’d had to call George to bring over a fresh suit. The only redeeming thing about today was when he finally managed to escape work, half-wishing he was back in the field so he didn’t have to worry about the politics of the administrative side of MI6, yet also half-ecstatic that he could just tune everything out when he went back to the heart of London where his cute schoolboy was waiting for him in their secret meeting spot. 

“I think we should go somewhere together,” Merlin said, looking up from reading the book ‘Lolita’ by Vladimir Nabokov, of all things. “Just the two of us.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes, feeling quite incredulous at the suggestion. “Like what we’re doing now?”

“Like a date.” Merlin said with a cheeky grin as he focused once more on his book. He turned the page with long, slender fingers and continued to read in silence, as if he wasn’t being very cruel to Arthur with his innocent almost-seduction.

Arthur nearly wanted to run away from the boy – it was as if Merlin was doing this to him on purpose. Instead, he huffed, shaking his head with as much amusement as he could. It was easiest to laugh at one’s problems, that much he knew. “I could hardly be seen going on a date with a young boy now, could I?”

Merlin looked up, eyes dancing with amusement beneath his fringe and glasses, and then slowly raised a brow teasingly. And then he focused on his book again, biting his lower lip in delight as he sped through a chapter, turning the pages so quickly that Arthur felt quite horrified at what the boy was learning from the book.

“And why are you even reading that rag?” Arthur asked, glaring at said book in his frustration.

“It’s about this older man who finds himself obsessed with this young girl. He does everything he can so that he could be with her.”

“I know what the book’s about. I’ve read it in Oxford.” Arthur mumbled, trying to find a way to steer the conversation away from the current dangerous topic. “The narrator took advantage of that girl.”

“On the contrary,” Merlin said. He glanced up from the book to look Arthur in the eye, lush lips curling up in delight. “The girl was very much willing. She knew what she was doing. I rather admire the narrator a bit. I would like to have someone like him. As the young body develops, it becomes ready. There are those whose minds are ready for it. For them, why can’t they be appreciated if they’re willing?”

Arthur stared at him, speechless for a moment. Merlin laughed softly before burying his head in his book once more, eyes wild at the dirty things he was most likely garnering from the novel. “What the bloody hell happened to the shy boy I know? You’re going to have a pup tent in your trousers in the middle of a public park in London if you continue reading that.”

Startled at Arthur’s unexpected words, Merlin’s whole face became red in embarrassment as he shut the book. He cleared his throat as he shoved the offending book to Arthur so that he had no choice but to receive it. “You should read it, not me.”

Arthur glared once more at the book as if it was evil before setting it down on the bench. “Where did you even get this book?”

“My uncle’s library,” Merlin shrugged nonchalantly. “Anyway, what did you say about that date?”

Arthur groaned, wondering if he should change his mind in becoming friends with this boy. Merlin was going to be the death of him at the dear old age of twenty-seven.

“I looked it up, Arthur,” Merlin said, smiling brightly. “Dates are not illegal.”

Arthur sighed, almost wanting to just give up and drag Merlin back home with him so that he could shut him up for good – or at least as long as he could. It was hard to hold principles when boys who were supposed to be innocent were always begging to be corrupted. But perhaps one date wouldn’t hurt. Then again, if he crossed that dangerous line he’d put between them, Arthur was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to stop at that. If he stopped controlling himself, he was afraid that he would scare Merlin away. For beneath Arthur’s carefully controlled exterior, there was a dam wanting to burst forth. Merlin had no idea what Arthur was capable of if there was nothing else stopping him.

“One date?” Merlin said again, a hopeful look in his eyes.

Arthur’s shoulders slumped in defeat, not being able to resist the kitten-like look on his favourite boy’s face.

“Fine,” Arthur said. “I suppose we could share a meal or something. Do you want to have supper in my flat?”

But Merlin just grinned in triumph, although his voice was full of humour. “Why, Arthur,” he said. “I didn’t know you wanted to take me home already. If you insist, then how am I to resist?”

“We’re not doing anything else!” Arthur said, shaking his head at Merlin’s unbelievable shamelessness. Arthur was trying so hard to protect his virtue and Merlin was being so insolent about it. He almost wanted to drape the boy over his lap and give him a few whacks on his backside. But then again, Merlin would probably love that too. There was just no winning with the boy. “And if you prefer, we could always just go visit a museum. I’m not sure if you’re at all into art but how about visiting the Tate Modern? Ever been there?”

“Maybe for a second date,” Merlin said, positively beaming at the idea. “But what about going to the theatre?”

“The theatre?” Arthur said, half-excited and half-horrified at the idea. Going to a museum was one thing. He could go to the museum with friends and it wouldn't be more than that. But being all alone with the boy as they watched a theatre production, sitting close together in the darkness – there would be no excuse in trying to play dumb at it being an actual date. The last time he’d been to the West End was when he had been dating Gwen nearly a decade ago. He’d never brought anyone else there because a theatre date usually meant seriousness, which Arthur had always been wary of after the whole short but messy marriage with his ex-wife Sophia.

“Well?” Merlin said, his blue eyes so earnestly hopeful beneath his glasses that it was so hard to resist him.

“What do you want to go and see?” Arthur finally said, resigned at his fate.

Merlin looked absolutely wrecked with joy as he pulled two tickets from his school bag. “Well, I was hoping that you would be interested in seeing ‘The Book of Mormon’ this Saturday. It starts at 2:30 pm.”

Arthur was absolutely flabbergasted at the offer. For a boy to be able to buy tickets so close to the date of a theatre musical or play would be quite extreme – did Merlin use his whole allowance for the month? Or maybe even the next two months? Arthur didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t look so shocked,” Merlin said, laughing a little. “It didn’t cost an arm and a leg. Or even my virtue. I’m in a music school. They sell extremely discounted tickets to productions all over London. I really wanted to go see it with you since I’m sure you’ll like comedy but if you have other plans, my teacher Mr. Gwaine said he wouldn’t mind seeing it with me-”

It seemed as if Merlin knew him too well now to press his buttons. With a scowl, Arthur reached over and took one of the tickets. “No, you will absolutely not go and see a musical with your teacher. I’ll see the bloody play with you. But don’t do this again, you hear? God forbid, if we’re going to go on any more of your so-called dates, I want to be the one to treat you. I’m the one with the job, idiot boy. And since you’ve already paid for the tickets this time, I’ll take you out to dinner afterwards, got it?”

Merlin’s eyes widened for a brief moment before he smiled brightly, his whole face looking as if it radiated the sun with how happy he looked. It made Arthur’s heart melt just watching him. “You could wine me, dine me, and take me home after if you want, Arthur. Thank you!”

Arthur, for lack of anything coherent to say, just reached out and punched Merlin’s shoulder lightly as he cleared his throat brusquely, as if he wasn’t affected by the boy’s crazy antics.

But Merlin just looked at his shoulder in confusion. “What the heck was that?”

“That’s a manly way of showing camaraderie. That’s how my mates and I do things.”

“I’m hardly your ‘mate’.” Merlin said as he looked up at Arthur meaningfully. “A hug would have been more appropriate.”

Arthur’s gut almost burst at the invitation. But before he could say no, he felt his head nodding and in a split-second, Merlin was in his arms, a warm, slight presence that made his heart thud faster in his chest. Merlin’s skinny arms wrapped around his neck as Arthur buried his nose in Merlin’s hair, relishing once more in the familiar scent of vanilla and sandalwood. He wrapped his arms around Merlin’s waist, squeezing tightly.

But regrettably, knowing that he had to, Arthur used every restraint he had as he pushed the boy away gently, warmth in his eyes as he watched Merlin’s pleased face. “I guess you get your date then. You’re so spoiled, Merlin.”

“You hardly resisted,” Merlin said, grinning as he sat back down. “And since you offered supper at your house as well, should I do that on Sunday? We could watch a TV marathon if you want. Have you ever watched BBC’s Sherlock?”

“Don’t you have anything better to do at home?” Arthur asked, trying so hard to resist the boy’s charms. Of course, it was quite apparent that he was fighting a losing battle.

“Nope,” Merlin said. “I’m just going to be bored. My uncle usually goes golfing on Saturdays and he’s usually doing stuff in his study on Sundays.”

“And your friends?”

“They’re in the beginning stages of dating. I don’t want to be the third wheel,” Merlin said, making a face at the idea. “How about you? I’m not imposing, am I? You don’t have a wife or a girlfriend, do you? Or I guess a boyfriend – but then you seem really straight to me…”

“I’m married to my job. So I guess you found my weakness. As I have found yours. We’re just two bored people.” Arthur said, shrugging and ignoring Merlin’s other questions. Of course Arthur was straight – he’d never had a boyfriend ever. But even though Merlin was a boy, he still didn’t consider himself gay for he couldn’t imagine getting interested in any other male. It just meant that he liked Merlin. Maybe he was just Merlin-sexual, in addition to being straight.

“Like desperate housewives sort of bored?” Merlin said with an amused laugh.

“Don’t ever say that again!” Arthur said, offended. “If we were in a television show, I would be someone manly. Like Jack Bauer from 24. Or Tywin Lannister from Game of Thrones.”

“I think you’d be more like Hannibal,” Merlin suggested with a thoughtful look. “A well-dressed European with a keen interest in ruining the innocence of boys.”

“Just one boy,” Arthur said, unable to stop himself from finally admitting it. “Although innocence is not the first word I’d associate with this boy. Nope, not at all.”

Merlin’s lips curled up shyly then, causing his dimples to appear on his face. It was such a complete turnaround from his teasing earlier on, the change from bravado to bashfulness. “And if I was a character on television, who would I be?”

Arthur thought about it for almost a minute as he stared openly at Merlin’s face. But no matter how much he pondered, he couldn’t find one character that could fit Merlin’s description. Finally, he said, “I don’t know. There’s no one else like you, I suppose.”

“Then that’s good,” Merlin said, his face tinged with a blush as Arthur still hadn’t looked away from him. “I guess that means that I won’t bore you then.”

Arthur felt himself smiling as he forced himself to finally look away from Merlin, who looked quite self-conscious. “You’re going to be the death of me, Merlin,” he said. “It’s Thursday and you already have me scheduled for two dates during the weekend. And I’ve been trying so hard to be such a good law-abiding citizen of Britain.”

In reply, Merlin just hid a smile as he looked down at his always-shiny brogue shoes. “Should I change then?”

“Never,” Arthur said, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t like you as much if you did.”

“Then you’re lucky to find me, aren’t you?” Merlin teased.

“I don’t know about that,” Arthur teased back, resisting the urge to give in. “I’d say you’re luckier to find me.”

“You just said that you liked me,” Merlin said.

“Did I?” Arthur said, unable to resist the urge to grin at that. “I don’t remember saying that. Ever.”

“You utter prat!”

Laughing, Arthur got up and picked up Merlin’s cello case, slinging it over his shoulder. “Ready to go home, Merlin?”

“With you?” Merlin said, standing up as well and gathering his school things. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Little idiot,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes as he opened his black umbrella and stepped out into the rain. “You’re so insane. Are you in heat?”

Merlin laughed as he slung his satchel around his body and went to join Arthur. “It would certainly make things easier if I was.”

Arthur shook his head in amusement as they walked away from the pavilion, enjoying the scent of rain and wet earth merging with the sweetness of summer flowers. “One day, you will regret all the teasing you’ve been subjecting me to. I could take you apart with one blow, you do know that?”

“I’m ready any time.” Merlin countered in a brave but bashful voice, his cheeks flushed as he looked up at Arthur with earnest and open longing. “I’m sure I’ve already taken you apart in your dreams.”

Arthur wanted to say so much more but he was afraid that he would just reveal that Merlin was so very right. Merlin had already landed the starring role to his private adult TV shows in his mind, which played every night with reruns every morning. There was no need to fuel the fire that so obviously stoked Merlin’s young but eager body.

They walked together in companionable silence through the park, while Arthur tried not to linger on the small details like the tinge of pink of Merlin’s plush lips or the long pale neck that just begged to be smudged with a light bruise.

But it was the warm presence of the slight boy beside him that slotted something in place, deep in his gut, and not just the obvious lust that mingled along with it. Arthur has had a girlfriend he’d always thought he’d marry. He’d had a wife that he thought he was going to be with all his life. He’d had connections with people from all over the world but this one boy moved something in him the way that no one else did, from the moment he’d first glanced at him in the red pavilion until this very moment they now shared, as they walked together quietly underneath his black umbrella.

At the door to Merlin’s building, something fluttered deep within his core as, hidden from the public because of Arthur’s umbrella, Merlin reached up on his tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheek, while light laughter vibrated between their bodies. And as always, all Arthur wanted was to take him home.

“See you tomorrow?” Merlin asked, a sunny smile on his lips that felt like it belonged only to Arthur.

“See you tomorrow,” Arthur said, with a warm smile just for Merlin.

**********

**_To be continued..._**


End file.
